Home Truths
by alli1
Summary: Mozzie and El have a discussion. It's not a happy one.


A/N: This is set toward the end of season 5 (AKA the season that shall not be named), after "Live Feed", but before the final episode. Please skip it if you haven't seen it or if you have and thought it was great. I wanted to finish it before we get our short season 6.

**HOME TRUTHS**

Elizabeth walked out of her office shortly before noon on Friday with the remarkable realization that she had no where she needed to be. Most of the plans were already in place for their impending move and all the details for upcoming parties for Burke Premiere events had been turned over to Yvonne for completion. The bulk of the packing at their townhouse was also finished and she found she had no desire to go home and sit surrounded by a rabbit warren of cardboard boxes.

Most of her friends worked regular nine to five hours, and she knew Peter was also tied up, so she decided to give Mozzie a call. She had not talked to him in quite a while and she found she missed his wit and unique take on the world.

"Mrs. Suit," Mozzie intoned formally when he answered and El frowned. He didn't sound like his usually cheerful self at all.

"Hi, Mozzie. I was wondering if you were free for lunch. I have some time open and I'm right around the corner from that organic diner you like. It's been ages since I've seen you."

There was such a long pause after she spoke she thought maybe their call had disconnected.

"Mozzie?"

She heard a deep sigh. "Thank you for the invitation, but I don't think that's a good idea."

"Not a good idea?" she repeated; perplexed. "But why not? Are you all right?"

"I'm not much in the mood for socializing these days," came the morose reply.

Now all of her senses were pinging. Something was definitely wrong.

"Mozzie, what is it? Is there something I can do to help?"

At this Mozzie humphed. "You've done enough."

Elizabeth was totally baffled by the cold reception she was getting. "I don't know what you mean. Please, Mozzie? So much has been happening so fast. I would just really love to talk to you."

There was another long silence and then finally Mozzie spoke. "I'm afraid you wouldn't like what I'd have to say."

Elizabeth was shocked at his words. While he and Peter had often crossed swords, usually over Neal, Mozzie had never been anything but kind to her.

"But why?"

There was another pause. "Because as much as I've grown fond of you, my first loyalty is always going to be to Neal."

Now Elizabeth was even more puzzled. "Neal? We love Neal, too," she said, and was surprised when she heard what was unmistakably a snort of derision. It made her even more determined to get to the bottom of this mystery. "Look Mozzie, I don't know what's going on, but I'm not going to leave for D.C. without getting some answers. So you can either agree to meet me, or I'll find a way to track you down. And believe me, if I can find lavender hydrangeas in December, I can find you."

The threat must have been enough to sway Mozzie because he reluctantly agreed to meet. He arrived a short time later, looking more uncomfortable than she had ever seen him. He didn't smile or greet her warmly, just took the seat across from her with a nod.

Elizabeth leaned forward, determined to make him look at her.

"Mozzie, something is obviously very wrong. Please, won't you tell me what it is, so I can try and fix it?'

At that, Mozzie scowled. "This isn't like someone getting the beef instead of the chicken at an event, Mrs. Suit. Some things can't be fixed."

Elizabeth's eyes, so much like Neal's, filled with hurt. "Please tell me what I've done to make you so angry."

The waiter chose that moment to arrive and bring them their menus. Mozzie left his folded, ordering only a cup of tea, so Elizabeth did the same.

Once he was gone, Mozzie sighed. "I guess I owe you that much, but it may take a while because I need to start at the beginning."

Elizabeth nodded, willing to be as patient as necessary to get to the bottom of whatever was troubling her friend.

Mozzie waited until the waiter had returned with their tea, taking the time to fix it to his liking before starting. When he finally finished the preparations, he looked up at Elizabeth and began. "You know, when Neal first told me about his deal with the suit I was horrified that he would want to work so closely with a Fed. I only supported it because, one, your husband seemed by all accounts to be a pretty decent guy, and two, even though Neal seemed to be doing okay, I never stopped worrying about him while he was in prison. And at first, it seemed like a really good arrangement. Neal liked what he was doing, he loved living with June, and he was determined to find Kate.

"And then there was his relationship with Peter. Sometimes I was almost jealous," Mozzie admitted softly, and Elizabeth felt herself nodding, knowing exactly what Mozzie was talking about. There were many times when the great Caffrey/Burke partnership didn't leave much room for others.

Mozzie looked up at her. "I know you probably don't know much about how Neal and I met, but I think one of the things that drew us together was the fact that we were both orphans. I never had a family, and Neal had one and lost it. I told your husband once, when you're an orphan, a family is the Holy Grail. By the time I was an adult, I had mostly gotten over that longing, but Neal was always searching for what he'd lost.

"And then you and Peter took him in—made him feel like part of _your_ family." Mozzie didn't bother to mention that he had also been included in that family feeling.

"Neal is part of our family. You are too!" Elizabeth insisted, as if reading his mind. To her surprise, that seemed to make the smaller man angry.

"Maybe you felt that way once, but now you're leaving and throwing him away like an extra vacuum cleaner you never got around to fixing."

Elizabeth was shocked by the accusation. "We're not throwing him away!" she protested. "We'd love to have him visit us in DC! You too."

"And how exactly will that work?" Mozzie demanded sardonically. "Do you really think the marshals will just extend his radius a few hundred miles for the weekend? Or maybe they'll send one of their agents to escort Neal on a field trip from time to time?"

Elizabeth was clearly taken aback. She had never considered how difficult it might be for Neal to see them. "Neal won't be on a radius forever," she said, but now her voice was uncertain.

"No, he won't, but you gave up on Neal before the DC deal came up anyway," Mozzie continued. "He told me what you said to him when Peter was in prison. How you assumed that the main reason he wanted Peter free was so he could keep his deal."

Elizabeth remembered the conversation with shame but then her anger flared. "Peter never would have been in prison if Neal's father hadn't shown up and caused so much trouble!"

Mozzie nodded. "And Neal was already feeling guilty about that—not to mention hurt by his father once again dumping him. Did you know that James even threatened Neal physically? So imagine how much worse he felt when you made it clear that you blamed him too."

Elizabeth looked away, overcome with remorse, but Mozzie wasn't finished.

"You even asked him to lie to Peter, something that at one point I might have heartily endorsed. Except it tore him up inside. For some reason, he holds himself to a different standard when it comes to your husband. One I don't always understand or approve of, but he does and it means a lot to him. You asked—no, demanded, that he throw that away for you. And he did it without question. Because that's how much he thinks of you and Peter."

Mozzie noticed that her eyes had filled with tears. "Look, this was your idea," he said, not unkindly.

'Well, you act like Neal is innocent in all of this," Elizabeth defended. "He's done plenty to Peter over the years! Things that cost him respect, friends, promotions. It's a miracle they even offered him this position after everything that's happened!"

For once Mozzie looked guilty. "I know that Neal and I haven't always played by the rules, and that sometimes you and Peter got hurt. That whole mess with Keller….," Mozzie shook his head, clearly remembering the whole sordid incident, and his role in it, with real regret. Then he continued. "Look, I'll be the first to admit that I don't have the purest heart, but Neal's is always in the right place. He might make a mess of it sometimes, but he'd never intentionally do anything to hurt you or Peter.

"And how does Peter repay his devotion?" he continued. "By dumping him with a new handler. By throwing it in his face over and over again that he's nothing but a criminal. That no matter how much he's changed, or how many good things he's done, or how many times he's put himself on the line for the FBI, he's always been relegated to 'less than' status. Peter even told Jones that he regretted taking Neal on as a CI."

Neal had confessed to overhearing that remark after way too much wine one night, and Mozzie would never forgive or forget the shattered look on Neal's face when he had revealed it.

Elizabeth was shocked. "Peter would never say that!" she insisted.

"Trust me, he would and he did. Neal heard it straight from the horse's mouth, though I'll grant you that Peter didn't know he was listening at the time. But he still said it and it just about destroyed Neal.

"Neal may be a conman and a thief, but he's also the most loyal friend you could ever have. You and Peter could learn a thing or two from him. Have you and Peter ever stopped to consider all Neal has been through since he was 'rescued' from prison?

"He's been through hell. He's been shot at numerous times—with guns and arrows, kidnapped, tazed, drugged, and used and abused by other agents with their own agendas. He's lost the love of his life, his father, a woman he thought of as his mother and his new handler. He's been betrayed by false girlfriends and stuck back in prison for crimes he didn't commit. When you add it all up, it's amazing he's still able to flash his million dollar smile. And for all that, he gets little more than a grudging 'thank you' and a two mile radius."

Elizabeth wanted to stop the flow of words, or argue against everything Mozzie was saying, but she found herself stunned into silence.

"You know, before your husband came along, it was my job to look after Neal and believe me, it wasn't always easy. But I sure did a better job of it than Peter has," Mozzie said disdainfully.

"Maybe Neal's caused Peter trouble over the years, but he's also given him one of the best closure rates in the FBI," he continued. "Which is no doubt the main reason Peter was even offered the job in D.C. in the first place."

Elizabeth was openly crying, stung by the truth in Mozzie's words. "Does Neal hate us now?" she asked tremulously.

Mozzie's expression softened and he shook his head. "Maybe he should, but I know he doesn't," he admitted grudgingly. "He's always had a soft heart, and he cares more than he should about you and Peter. He loves you both, and I think he would forgive you anything. Whether he should or not.

"And frankly, as low an opinion as your husband might have of Neal, his own opinion of himself is much lower. So enjoy Washington, Elizabeth. I'm sure you and the suit will fit in just fine with all the other backstabbers."

Mozzie withdrew a five from his wallet and threw it on the table and then got up and left without another word or backward glance.

Elizabeth sat in shock, unable to move or even breathe. Though it had been devastating to hear, everything Mozzie had said was absolutely true. He might have glossed over or sugar-coated some of Neal's more colorful missteps, but he had also been right about a most of it: she **had** asked Neal to lie, she had relied on his skills to get Peter out of prison, and she had let him assume she thought he was doing it for selfish reasons. That made her the worst kind of hypocrite—and the worst kind of friend.

She finally roused herself and threw several bills of her own on the table and then hurried to hail the nearest cab, barely having the breath to give the driver her Brooklyn address. Once home, she let Satchmo out and then settled on the sofa, tears streaming down her face. She wasn't one for hysterical crying, but she was perilously close now.

She was still sitting there hours later when Peter came in. He took one look at her tear streaked face and was at her side in a second.

"Hon, what is it, what's wrong? Did you get bad news? Is it someone in the family?"

El hugged him fiercely. "Oh, Peter, I'm sorry I frightened you. No, no, it's nothing like that. I just had the most awful talk with Mozzie today."

"Mozzie?" Peter couldn't imagine what the paranoid little man could have said to have caused his wife so much distress. The two of them had always been close—almost disturbingly so, considering some of the stuff that he got up to. "What in the world did he say to upset you so much?" he demanded, completely perplexed. He could scarcely believe that Mozzie would have said something to hurt Elizabeth. Though Mozzie and Peter didn't always see eye to eye, Neal's friend had always adored his wife.

"I asked him to go to lunch today, but I had to beg him to come. He warned me that I would be sorry if he did, and he was right. Oh, Peter it was awful!"

Peter felt his temper spike. After all of the headaches over the last few weeks with Neal, the idea of Mozzie reducing his wife to tears was more than he could take.

"I don't know what he said to you, but he had no right to upset you like this," Peter declared, his own ire rising.

To his surprise, El shook her head.

"No Peter, you're wrong. It was stuff I needed…we both needed to hear." She took her husbands hand and pulled him to the kitchen table. "We need to talk, and I think we're going to want a bottle of wine to go with it."

They managed to find a couple of glasses and the corkscrew with only a minimum of searching through the boxes that were already packed. Elizabeth poured each of them a hefty glass.

Once they were seated at their table, El began recounting her discussion with Mozzie. It took quite a bit of time because Peter kept interrupting, defending his and Elizabeth's actions, but Elizabeth was gently persistent.

Peter winced when he heard that Neal was aware of his comment to Jones about regretting having him as a CI. He knew Jones would never have repeated the remark so he had no idea how Neal had known, but there was no denying the accuracy.

He was still angry with Mozzie for unloading all of his vitriol on his unsuspecting wife, but he knew that Neal must have been deeply hurt by the sentiment. And if there was anything he knew for sure about Mozzie, it was that the quirky little man had an unending loyalty and devotion to his friend.

"I'm sorry Neal heard what I said," Peter said grudgingly, "but it still doesn't excuse everything he's done over the last few years. Him and Mozzie both."

Elizabeth shook her head sadly. "Maybe it doesn't. But Mozzie did open my eyes to a few things. I never really thought about all that Neal has been through in the last few years. More than most people endure in a lifetime. And yet he still cared enough about you…about us… to do whatever it took to get you out of prison, in spite of my throwing it back in his face."

Peter sighed, remembering his harsh words to Neal when he discovered that his release was based on a lie. The younger man had held his hands out willingly; ready to return to prison if that was what was required of him.

"Peter, what are we going to do?" Elizabeth implored.

Peter's shoulders slumped wearily. "Somehow I don't think apologizing is going to do much good. Maybe the best thing we can do now is just leave for D.C. as planned. I'll try to find Neal the best handler I can, and we'll just put this whole mess behind us."

Elizabeth's head came up and she glared at him as though he had just kicked Satchmo. "That's it? Neal and Mozzie are just a 'whole mess'? You're willing to throw away one of the best friends you've ever had without even trying to fix things?"

Peter squirmed uncomfortably. He had rarely seen that narrow-eyed gaze leveled at him. "El, what do you want me to do? Neal and I have had so many missteps and miscommunications lately, it's amazing we're even still speaking. It's pretty clear that Mozzie is never going to forgive us, and he's been the devil on Neal's shoulder for longer than I've been in the picture. Maybe the best thing we can do at this point is just go our separate ways."

Elizabeth was shocked. "I refuse to accept that. You and Neal have been through hell together, and you've always been able to work it out before. You risked everything just to bring him back from Cape Verde."

"Yeah, and now I wish I had just left him there. Collins never would have found him if it wasn't for me and that stupid map. He and Mozzie could have lived happily ever after in paradise."

"But Neal wanted to come home! He missed New York. He missed us! And June!"

"Maybe, but he would have found a way to be happy there. Happier than he's been here, that's for sure."

"Peter, we need to talk to him. Maybe things can't be fixed between us, but you'll never forgive yourself if you don't at least try."

Peter was saved from further argument by the ringing of his cell phone. He wasn't surprised to see Neal's number. No doubt he had also received a blow-by-blow description of the conversation between El and Mozzie, but from Mozzie's perspective. He was tempted to ignore it, at least for the time being, but he had a feeling things weren't going to get any easier down the road.

He took a deep breath and shot El a meaningful look. "Hey, Neal. "

"Peter. I don't know if you've talked to El yet, but I think I owe her—and you –an apology."

"Yeah, we were just talking. It sounds to me like maybe apologies are due all around," Peter said with a sigh. "Why don't you come over here and we'll try and sort all of this out."

Neal laughed, but it was a bitter sound. "I don't think that's going to happen. Look, please tell her I'm sorry for what Mozzie said to her. I know he upset her."

Peter snorted. "That's an understatement. I've never see her so devastated. But she seems to feel that she—we deserved—it."

Now it was Neal's turn to sigh. "No, you don't. At least not all of it. You know Mozzie can be a little over-protective."

Peter privately thought _that_ was an understatement, too, but since he had also been accused (more than once) of being too protective of Neal, he didn't mention it.

"Neal, please, we really need to talk about this. Won't you come here?"

Elizabeth was nodding and gesturing frantically, clearly wanting the same thing.

"Peter, it's late, and I really don't feel like doing this now," Neal hedged.

"All right, tomorrow's Saturday," Peter countered. "Come here for breakfast. That will give us as long as we need to talk."

"Somehow, I don't think breakfast surrounded by mounds of boxes sounds very appealing."

"All right, I'll come to you," Peter persisted. "I'll be there at 9:00. How's that?"

"Early, but doable. Neal finally answered, clearly unenthusiastic. "I'll see you then." They said goodbye and then Peter hung up and turned to Elizabeth.

"Peter, I need to come with you tomorrow. I need to tell Neal how sorry I am!"

"I know you want to, but I think it would be better if Neal and I meet by ourselves. I don't know if we have any chance of mending things, but I don't want him to feel ganged up on. I promise, I'll try and get him to agree to meet with you."

El reluctantly agreed to wait, though she was clearly unhappy at the delay. They finally ordered dinner in and went to bed, though Peter lay awake long into the night, his mind churning with all that El had told him.

When Neal opened his door the next morning, Peter noticed something that hadn't registered before. Even casually dressed in jeans, Neal looked older than he ever had, and worn out in a way that seemed alien to the usually effervescent conman.

Neal poured a cup of coffee for Peter as he sat down. "I didn't make breakfast, since I wasn't sure what you'd be hungry for, but we've got plenty of June's Italian Roast and Marta usually brings something up that she's baked for the weekend."

"Thanks. We can get something in a bit."

They stirred their coffee awkwardly for a moment, and then Neal spoke.

"I'm sorry Mozzie attacked Elizabeth like that. I know he thought he was defending me, but he's always had a bit of a blind spot when it comes to seeing my faults." He paused and then gave a tight smile. "Actually, I guess that makes him the polar opposite of you."

Peter winced. "I deserve that, I guess. Even though I'm not thrilled that he made Elizabeth cry, I can't fault his loyalty. And as El made abundantly clear, everything he said was true and they were things we both needed to hear."

"Maybe, but I told him that he had no right to speak for me and he needs to apologize to her. I'm not sure what he was hoping to accomplish by telling Elizabeth all of that stuff anyway, especially now, with the two of you moving so soon."

"Neal, we _did_ need to hear them," Peter insisted. "I can't go to D.C. with this hanging between us."

"What difference does it make? We had a good run, but now it's time for you to move on. I'll finish out my sentence with a new handler and you and Elizabeth will become the new rising power couple in D.C." Neal smiled, but there was no warmth to it.

Peter shook his head. "I'm not willing to just let this go and neither is El. We've been through too much to not at least try to work things out. And look, before this goes any further, Mozzie told Elizabeth that you heard me telling Jones that I regretted taking you on. I won't bother to ask you how you got wind of it, but I'm sorry I said that."

"No, you're sorry I heard it," Neal corrected.

Peter raised his eyebrows, clearly confused at the difference.

"If you were really sorry that you had said it, you would have corrected yourself immediately," Neal explained patiently. "You didn't, so I know that means that at least in that moment, you meant it sincerely."

"Maybe in that moment I did, but it's not fair to judge our whole relationship on that," Peter protested, once again wondering how in the world Neal had been privy to the conversation, but knowing better than to ask.

Neal shrugged. "It's all right, Peter. And it's not like I don't have my own regrets. If I had never made the deal with you, I'm sure I would be out of jail by now. Mozzie and I wouldn't each have a bullet scar. And maybe, just maybe, Kate would still be alive."

Peter was stunned and more than a little hurt at Neal's declaration. "You make it sound like it's all been awful."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean for it to sound that way. You've done a lot for me, probably more than I deserved. These past few years have been hard, but we've also had some amazing good times—times I wouldn't trade for anything. But now they're over."

"But they don't have to be! El and I want you to visit us in D.C. just as soon as you can," Peter began, but seeing the look in Neal's eyes he slumped. "But you're not going to, are you? No matter what happens with your anklet and your parole; you won't be coming to Washington, will you?"

Neal finally looked right at him. "I could lie, but I still don't like doing that with you. So no, Peter, I won't be coming to DC. Not for a while. Maybe not ever. One thing a conman learns is that there's a right time to let something go when it's not working anymore. For us, that was about 6 months after I got back from Cape Verde."

"But why? What changed? How did we end up here?" Peter asked sadly.

Neal shook his head. "I guess we just always wanted different things. You wanted me to change into something you could be proud of. I just wanted to finish out my sentence so I could leave."

"I didn't want you to change, Neal," Peter protested. "You're brilliant and talented and good hearted. I just didn't want you to end up in a 6 by 8 cell for the rest of your life. And you have made me proud. More times than I can count!"

"Thanks, I guess. But it doesn't change anything. After everything that happened with Ellen, and then James. Your arrest. Losing Siegel. There's just too much water under the bridge. Pratt might be dead and you might be out of prison, but in the end, we're the ones that lost."

Peter had never heard the younger man sound so bitter—or defeated. It made him want to grab him and wrap him in a hug. He had always been casually affectionate with Neal, but he was startled to realize that he couldn't remember the last time he had even touched his CI. He didn't think any contact would be welcome now.

"Elizabeth would like to see you before we go," he said at last, unsure what else to say to the man he had once considered his best friend—and maybe even the son he never had.

Neal shook his head. "I think it's better if we just let things lie. I'll ask Mozzie to call her and we'll send her flowers to apologize. I know she'll do great at the National Gallery."

"So where do we go from here? Peter asked tentatively. "You know, we still have to work together for a few more days at least."

Neal smiled, a more genuine one this time. "You know, it might horrify you to realize this, but you and Mozzie have more in common than you might think. Both of you like to be prepared for whatever comes your way. Me, I'm more spontaneous. I just take things one day at a time. And after all, I am a conman, Peter. I think I can pretend to be the happy CI for a little while longer."

Peter shook his head ruefully. "I never could break you of that habit."

"Well, it wasn't for lack of trying."

"That's for sure." He slowly sipped his coffee, dreading having to return to Brooklyn and tell Elizabeth that they would have to leave for D.C. with nothing really resolved.

"More?" Neal offered, holding up the pot. "And I can ask Marta to bring up some breakfast."

"No, thanks, I'd better get back. Those boxes won't pack themselves."

He stood, and as he did he couldn't help but wonder if this was the last time he'd ever visit this apartment. He paused, letting memories flow over him—his anniversary surprise for El, their impromptu wedding, his date night with the killer bride. And so many late nights talking and plotting with Neal around this table. It brought a lump to his throat and moisture to his eyes.

As he reached the door, he turned and looked at his friend, unembarrassed by his overflowing emotions. Neal's eyes looked surprisingly damp too, which oddly made him feel a little better.

"See you Monday, Neal."

"See you Monday, Peter."

THE END


End file.
